Review: Tracy’s Dog Pecker

Kate Sloan

I’m back with another Tracy’s Dog review! And I’ve learned slightly more about this company since reviewing another toy of theirs last week! Namely: that the company is titled the way it is, as per TD’s marketing team, “because we are loyal and loving to our customers and we always get our customers’ backs no matter what. Always be there for them if they need anything. Also, we bring joy and pleasure to people!”

I guess I’d rather refer to my favorite vibes as “woman’s best friend” than as a “battery-operated boyfriend” as some companies insist upon doing. I do sometimes have to do a double-take when I read phrases like “Tracy’s Dog clitoral sucker,” to make sure I haven’t accidentally stumbled onto bestiality porn (yikes), but, you know, there are sex toy company names out there that I dislike more. (“Womanizer” and “I Rub My Duckie” come to mind!)

The toy I’m reviewing today is the Pecker, a new G-spot stimulator from Tracy’s Dog – so called, presumably, because it attacks your pleasure zones like a woodpecker. It’s both a vibrator and a pulsator. The vibration is plenty good enough for me – decently strong and rumbly for a $37 toy, 3 steady speeds followed by 7 patterns – but the real point of interest on this thing is the pulsation. There’s a circular panel in the tip of the toy which, much like the “Pulse Plate” on the Hot Octopuss Queen Bee, trembles visibly like the “come hither” motion of a particularly dexterous partner’s fingers. And when I first saw it do this, my G-spot started trembling too.

See, the reasons I didn’t like the pulsation of the Queen Bee were that 1) the “Pulse Plate” was too large and broad to hit a targeted spot like the clit with any precision or intensity, and 2) my clit doesn’t really like this type of pulsing, so it would seem. But my G-spot is a different beast, plus the pulsating part of the Pecker is small enough that it can actually focus on a particular spot instead of mostly pummeling the surrounding area. This feels like Tracy’s Dog employed the right technology for the right erogenous zone. Always a delight when sex toy companies manage to do that!

Image via Tracy’s Dog.

So what does the pulsation actually feel like? I have to admit that when I first inserted the toy and held down the pulsation button to turn it on, I nearly fell out of bed from the sudden intensity of it. I’d already spent several minutes watching porn and stimulating myself externally so I’d be warmed up for testing, since I know my G-spot requires a lot of foreplay, but the Pecker was still too intense for me right off the bat, even on the lowest setting. However, it was the kind of over-intensity that’s borderline-pleasurable and that can feel more enjoyable if you lean into it and accept that the slight discomfort is part of the complexity of the sensation. For me, intense G-spot stimulation is almost always accompanied by some degree of that “need to pee” feeling, a stingy edge of discomfort. It usually blossoms into pleasure when I give it time to do so, and though the Pecker was initially very jarring to my spot, it did eventually start to feel good as I continued turning myself on.

It’s interesting to compare the toy’s vibration functions and its pulsation, which you can activate either separately or together – to which I say, hallelujah, I love this function. Tracy’s Dog points out that since there are 10 vibration settings and 5 pulsation settings, there are 50 different combinations you can create thereof – and while not all of them feel noticeably different from one another, my G-spot craves the sensation of motion enough that even a small change can help ramp me up to a higher arousal level. The pulsation feels sharper, like an exacting partner pressing their fingers hard and fast into your G-spot, while the vibration feels more massage-like and stimulates the whole vagina rather than just that one spot. They both have their place, and I switch back and forth between the two a lot during use, but activating them both at the same time is usually far too much sensation for me. That said, if you’re one of those “No amount of G-spot stimulation is enough!!” people, you’d likely enjoy the onslaught of feeling that this toy provides.

As with the last Tracy’s Dog toy I reviewed, I found that this one has patterns that don’t entirely work for my body. Of the 5 pulsation settings, my favorites are the straight-‘n’-steady 5th one (why did they put the most basic one last?) and the steadily pulsing 2nd one. The others are comparatively erratic – a slow and steady up-and-down, a rumbling escalation ending in 3 strong bursts, and 3 medium taps followed by one longer and stronger buzz. While I’m sure some people would enjoy them for their teasing qualities, for me they’re too intense and all-over-the-place and usually just end up making both me and my G-spot feel jumpy and on edge.

However, the combination of the steady pulsation mode with a vibration pattern? Blissful. Sometimes I’m using the vibration function for a while, and then I get close to orgasm but don’t necessarily want to change the vibration pattern, lest I ruin my own orgasm. Turning on the pulsator at this point is often enough to push me over the edge – though, just as often, it becomes overwhelming and I have to backpedal a bit. (My G-spot is a fickle bitch, it’s true.)

I’m usually thrusting when I use this toy, which significantly improves how it feels for me. Hyperfocusing on just one area of my G-spot is a good way to overstimulate me in short order; I appreciate being able to move the toy in and out to stimulate both the shallower and deeper parts of my G-spot. Thankfully and thoughtfully, the toy has a looped handle which makes thrusting a whole lot easier than it otherwise would be, both for me and for any partners who might fuck me with this toy in the future. I also appreciate that the Pecker is on the longer side for a G-spot toy (about 8″ total or 6″ insertable), so I can massage all areas of my G-spot even as it swells from arousal. Tracy’s Dog made this toy long-ish because they wanted it to also be able to hit the A-spot or the prostate; however, for me, the tip isn’t quite narrow enough to slide up into my A-spot, and I would hesitate to use this toy anally because the base isn’t flared enough and the pulsating plate seems difficult to clean as effectively as anal bacteria requires. To me this is 100% a G-spot toy and it serves that function very well.

I wish the Pecker’s pulsator had some lower/less intense settings instead of starting at “WHAT THE FUCK” levels, but truth be told, I’d rather a toy be too strong than too weak. And it’s not even that this vibe is too strong (as my clit can attest from when I’ve held the Pecker on it, where it just registers as a middling vibrator) – it’s that it’s simultaneously strong and very focused on my G-spot. I can always dial back the sensation by angling the toy so it presses less directly against my spot until I’m ready for it; when a G-spot vibrator is too weak, there’s not much you can do to fix the situation.

I’m quite surprised by how much I like the Tracy’s Dog Pecker, especially since its name contains the phrase “dog pecker.” It just does what I want a G-spot toy to do. Whether I turn on the vibrations, the pulsation, both at the same time, or even neither, it gives me more than enough G-spot stimulation (with a little added thrusting) to create profound and surprising blended orgasms while I’m using another vibe on my clit. I could also see this toy mixing well with oral sex, since the looped handle would make it easy for a partner to hold and thrust while going down on me. If you like a LOT of G-spot stimulation, I think you’ll dig this one – so long as you can get over the name.

 

Thanks to Tracy’s Dog for providing this toy for me to review! This post was sponsored, meaning that I was paid by Tracy’s Dog to write a fair and honest review of their toy. As always, all words and opinions are my own.

You Are Not a Bad Submissive

Kate Sloan

Being a loudly and proudly submissive woman on the internet, I get a lot of questions in my various inboxes from other submissives, seeking affirmation and advice. Sadly, the subtext (ha!) of all too many messages in this vein is: “Am I a bad submissive because I don’t [do xyz thing that someone told me submissives do]?”

You can fill in that “xyz” with just about any kinky activity. Service. Masochism. Being tied up. Being “forced” to orgasm. Giving oral sex. Being a brat. Being obedient. Being “hot enough” or “pretty enough” or “kinky enough” or just… enough. There are so many areas where submissives doubt themselves and their ability to do certain things they feel are expected of submissives, whether due to physical limitations or psychological baggage or just… not liking certain acts.

Thinking you’re a “bad submissive” because you can’t do, or don’t like doing, certain things is like thinking you’re “bad at sex” for the same reasons. Sure, there are some overarching attributes and behaviors that are likely to make you a good submissive, or good at sex, no matter who you’re fucking: on-point communication skills, well-attuned self-knowledge, generosity of spirit. But it would be erroneous to assume that you’re universally bad at being submissive, or at having sex, just because your tastes and style don’t align perfectly with those of everyone you encounter in your sex life. Sure, yeah, maybe you had a dom once who craved good obedient service and your idea of sexy-fun submission is more like brash brattiness. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad submissive. It just means you’re not compatible with that dom in that way.

I dated a dude once who was way kinkier than me by every measure I can think of: he had more kinks than I do, felt more strongly about them, and could find ways to eroticize things that sometimes seemed pretty random and odd to me (in the best way). When we first started dating, I was nervous that I wouldn’t be able to live up to his expectations – that he would look at me, tied up and squirming on his massage table, and wish he was throat-fucking me instead, or caning my calves, or encasing me in saran wrap from head to toe.

However, in our numerous detailed kink negotiations, I learned that he didn’t think that way at all. He wasn’t sizing me up, putting together a wishlist of things he wanted to do to me, regardless of my opinions on the matter – he wanted us to figure out together what would be fulfilling for us to do. This is the basis of how every good dom approaches their dynamics, in my opinion. Sure, sometimes it can be fun to invite a partner to try an activity they’ve never tried before, to see if they’ll be into it – but if the answer is no, any dom worth their salt will accept that completely and unequivocally. If it’s a dealbreaker for them – like if they have one primary fetish and their sexual relationships just aren’t complete without it – they have the right to communicate that, so the two of you can make decisions accordingly. But they should never make you feel pressured to participate, and moreover, you are not a bad submissive if you can’t or won’t get onboard with what they’re proposing. It just means you may not be compatible and should likely go your separate ways.

If anyone ever tells you you’re a bad submissive, a) they’re an asshole and b) they probably just mean you’re not a well-suited submissive for them. This is every bit as weird and shitty as telling someone they have bad taste in food just because you don’t like their favorite dish. Like, first of all, who asked you? And secondly, why are you under the impression that your highly subjective opinion is objectively correct?!

To continue the food metaphor, the list of activities dominants and submissives can explore together is a colossal buffet, and you don’t have to like every dish on the menu. In fact, it’s pretty unlikely that you will. Just skip over the ones you don’t like!

Beware of any dom who, when you mention that you don’t like [x], gets huffy or argumentative. Yes, sometimes it can be disappointing to hear that the hot new person you’re into doesn’t like doing your favorite thing, and yes, sometimes a dom might be a little sad upon hearing that news. But any attempt to sway your answer is edging into manipulation territory, and that’s just not cool. I think saying “You’re a bad submissive” is often a last-ditch attempt to shame someone into doing certain things, and it should be seen as such: an abusive falsehood, not a damning proclamation.

When you think about dominants you’ve known, I bet you don’t mentally sort them into “good doms” and “bad doms” based solely on what they did and didn’t like. Maybe that guy who adored chain bondage or that goddess who loved cake-sitting didn’t turn your crank, but that doesn’t mean they were bad doms. The same is true for you: your boundaries are valid, you don’t owe anyone explanations about your preferred palette of kink activities, and your incompatibility with certain people is not a statement about your overall value.

I spent years feeling like a shitty submissive because I didn’t make pretty-enough faces while getting whipped, or couldn’t hold certain positions for long periods of time, or sometimes spaced and forgot to do the kinds of pre-emptive service my doms may have preferred. But in my current dynamic, my partner makes me feel every day like I’m the best submissive in the world – or, more importantly, the best submissive for them. We play to each other’s strengths, and don’t push each other’s boundaries (except in the fun, consensual way!). Just as they make me feel like a stellar submissive, I work hard to let them know that they’re an incredible dominant – not just in general, but for me. That’s what matters in a D/s dynamic, and anyone who tells you otherwise probably isn’t fun to play with anyway.

Submissive babes, I love you, I see you, and I want you to be happy. And an important part of that journey is recognizing that you’re a good submissive, for somebody, even if that somebody isn’t currently in your life. The more you accept and broadcast the unique fingerprint of your yeses and no’s, the closer you’ll get to meeting someone whose list matches yours. And then you’ll get to feel like the very, very good submissive that you are. 💖

But also? You’re a good submissive even if you don’t have a partner. You’re a good submissive even if you never have a partner. You’re a good submissive because, just by virtue of identifying as a submissive, you’ve taken the time to figure out who you are and what you want, to some extent. Your self-knowledge is beautiful, and inspirational, and revelatory, and – guess what? – good.

Review: Tracy’s Dog Craybit

Kate Sloan

My relationship with the sex toy company Tracy’s Dog didn’t exactly start off on the right foot. Er, the right paw.

They’ve sent me a bunch of pitch emails over the years, often containing weird glaring missteps, like accidentally addressing me as Emmeline (she was my roommate at the Woodhull conference once, but we’re not the same person!) and – in the most recent case – kiiinda plagiarizing my own writing back at me.

I got an email from Tracy’s Dog a while ago about their new rabbit vibe, the Craybit (so called because its strange tagline is “Let’s get crazy a little bit”). This toy’s claim to fame is that it has three motors: one to target the clit, one to target the G-spot, and one to target one of my very favorite erogenous zones, the A-spot. “You might be familiar with the G-Spot stimulation from toys and fingering, but have you ever experienced A-Spot orgasm?” their email asked. (Uh, yes, I have been known to.) “The feeling of hitting A-Spot is totally different from G-Spot [sic]. It is a more intense, molten-hot, addictive sensation that melts your soul and your body!”

That phrasing gave me déja vu, so I googled it, and… the only instance online of the phrase “molten-hot, addictive” is in an article I wrote for Glamour about the A-spot. Guess this company liked the piece. 😂

While this is aggravating, it also made me reflect on how this points to the little-known-ness of the A-spot. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone crib language from my own writing on this topic when extolling the virtues of the A-spot – especially since, aside from a few other sex writers I know such as Zoe Ligon and Cy of Super Smash Cache (both of whom are excellent), not many people go into detail about this spot on a regular basis.

The only reason I can think of for this linguistic borrowing is that the companies’ copywriters haven’t experienced A-spot pleasure themselves. If they had, they would be able to write about it in their own words. And while part of that is due to the simple fact that not everyone likes A-spot stim (just as not everyone likes G-spot or prostate stim), another part of it is due to how seldom the A-spot is discussed and explained compared to erogenous zones whose names show up more often on Cosmopolitan and Men’s Health covers.

All this to say, it’s always a thrill for me to see new toys being developed and released that specifically mention the A-spot in their marketing copy (ideally in the companies’ own words). It means that not only is the desire for A-spot stimulation being affirmed – it’s being actively catered to. Hooray!

The Craybit rabbit comes in an elegant black cardboard gift box with the company logo lettered on it in silver script. Inside is a charging cable for this USB-rechargeable toy, and an instruction booklet which details the vibe’s 15 (!) modes. These are pretty unique as far as vibrator patterns go, because the Craybit is juggling three motors at once. Some of the modes are more basic – all three motors on a steady speed, or all three thumping in synchrony – but some are more complex: the clit vibe can thrum in hills and valleys while the internal motors pulse erratically, for example, or each motor can throb in turn, like they’re singing in a round together.

Unfortunately none of these patterns do what I really want this type of vibe to be able to do: vibrate steadily on my clit while the internal motors pound rhythmically. My erogenous zones each crave a different type of stimulation, and I know I’m not alone in that. What my A-spot and G-spot want is always gonna be different from what my clit wants, and these patterns get it frustratingly almost-right. The closest to my ideal is the 8th one, which alternates between a low and high speed on the clit, stays steadily low on the G-spot, and pulses for a few beats on the A-spot before vibrating normally for a few more beats and then starting over at the beginning. As such, this vibe works better for me as a foreplay tease than as a “finisher.”

The motors are pretty decent – or possibly they just feel like they are because there are three of them. (Kinda like how three mediocre actors reciting the same Shakespeare monologue in unison would impress me more than just one of them stumbling through it.) I can’t actually isolate them to test them each on their own because all 15 of the toy’s modes utilize all three motors at once. This is ultimately the toy’s main flaw – that you can’t control the motors individually. I realize it would be a lot of buttons to have to cram onto the handle of a vibrator, but I really wish it were an option, even just via a Bluetooth app on your phone (and I am not normally one to say vibrator apps are good!). The perennial problem with rabbit vibrators is that everyone’s body is different so it’s hard for a dual-stimulation toy to get the stimulation right in both its motors for any particular person, and that problem is, of course, compounded once you introduce a third motor.

That said, my G-spot and A-spot appreciate the strong rumbliness of the Craybit’s internal motors. I just wish the clit motor was less buzzy (as far as I can tell, it’s the buzziest of the three), and that there were some lower speed settings. Even the lowest steady pattern feels overwhelming if I’m not warmed up – in much the same way as those three bad Shakespearian actors would be overwhelming if you were only expecting one or two to show up.

The clit stimulator is one of those classic two-pronged “bunny ears” situations. I actually like this one better than most others of its type, because the ears are made of solid, substantial silicone so they don’t flap around as much as these usually do, and it’s easier to get them to stay put on my clit. However, I know that’ll make it less appealing for people who find the flapping-around pleasurable.

The relative solidness of the bunny ears also introduces some problems, mainly that when I do need to adjust their positioning, I often end up accidentally slingshotting them onto my clit in a way that feels like a tiny slap. Not ideal… unless you’re into that.

The handle of the toy buzzes annoyingly when it’s on, but honestly I can’t really fault the designers for that – it’s a lot of vibration in one product, so I can see how it would be hard to keep the toy’s handle issues, uh, handled. Fortunately the toy is shaped such that it stays anchored in place pretty well in my vagina, snug against my G-spot and A-spot, so I can use it hands-free if I want to. The shape also makes it so that the most natural-feeling way to thrust this toy (if indeed you choose to thrust with it) is to use short, deep motions, which are exactly what my A-spot likes anyway. It’s a very thoughtful design.

There are a lot of weird things about Tracy’s Dog’s overall branding and marketing that I need to address. First of all, does anyone else immediately start singing “Tracy’s Dog has got it going on“ upon reading this company’s name? Secondly, did they really need to evoke a dog in the name of their, um, SEX TOY company? Thirdly, why do they have a YouTube channel where a hot tattooed man dressed like a cowboy answers frequently asked questions about the toy while shirtless, drinking whiskey, lighting a cigarette, playing a guitar, playing the chimes, staring pensively into a mirror, and giving problematic misinformation about the hymen while playing pool? …Okay, I have to admit I like the tattooed cowboy. But he raises even more questions for me than he answers. Is he supposed to be Tracy?! Is the dog in this video therefore the eponymous Tracy’s dog? Why is he always hanging out in what appears to be the world’s coolest saloon/motorcycle garage/house? Is he an actor who the company hired to perform in these videos? If so, where can I see the rest of his filmography in its entirety? Enquiring minds need to know.

I also noticed in my research for this review that some of the Craybit’s marketing copy says it’ll give you “an orgasm so intense that it straightens your legs out like a fainting goat,” which is how I ended up reading the whole Wikipedia article on fainting goats while absent-mindedly thrusting the toy in and out of me during a testing session. (Thanks to my friend Sarah, who loves goats, for enlightening me on this topic.) I don’t think I developed an odd fetish as a result of this episode, but who the hell knows. I also noticed that the same page contains a graphic that again uses my “molten-hot, addictive” turn of phrase. Guess it’s hard for an old dog to learn new tricks.

Overall, I like this vibe, and I love that it exists – yay, A-spot rep! – but I can’t say I’ll be reaching for it a lot. The Tracy’s Dog Craybit is an overwhelming vibrator that assails three of my major erogenous zones with strong simultaneous vibration. It does that very well, but that’s not really what I want out of a sex toy – I want to be able to control the sensations each spot feels at any given time, and that includes being able to start on a low speed. However, I can recommend this toy for you if you want a vibrator that will rock your entire internal clitoris with powerful patterns and va-va-voom vibrations – in other words, a vibrator that’ll make you feel, I guess, like a fainting goat.

 

This post was sponsored, which means that Tracy’s Dog paid me to write an honest and fair review of their product. As always, all writing and opinions are entirely my own.

Monthly Faves: Pillows, Podcasts, & Powerful Memoirs

Kate Sloan

Hope your COVID summer has been as stress-free as can reasonably be expected, loves. Here are some things I loved in August…

 

Media

• After devouring all three episodes of Netflix’s longform improv special series Middleditch & Schwartz when it came out, my partner and I started watching some similarly-structured specials performed by TJ & Dave. Longform improv is truly one of my passions and makes me feel so happy and hopeful even when the world sucks.

• The brilliant sex writer Girl on the Net went through a breakup recently and I really feel for her, especially since she writes such beautiful things about her feelings, in addition to the blisteringly hot erotica she’s best known for. I decided it was the right time for me to finally read her book, Girl on the Net: How a Bad Girl Fell in Love. It’s full of sexy and romantic stories, along with incisive commentary about what it’s like to be – and to date – a sex blogger. Needless to say, I loved it!

• Next I dove into Glennon Doyle‘s memoir Untamed, which is about how this “Christian mommy blogger” (god, I hate that so many people’s voices drip with misogyny when they use that term, but it is the most widely-used term for the type of blogging she’s known for) fell in love with a famous lesbian soccer player and then made the decision to uproot her entire life: leave her husband, restructure her family, and marry her new love. It’s a beautiful book containing a lot of wise insights about love, parenthood, and systemic sexism.

• I’ve been introducing my partner to The O.C., a show that I found very influential when I was 12-13. We’re watching (or re-watching, in my case) season 2, in which the stunning Olivia Wilde plays bisexual icon and punk bartender Alex Kelly, a characterization that I credit with making me realize I was bi all those years ago. It’s every bit as good as I remember it being – all the smarts of a nerdy primetime drama, crammed into the format of a syrupy soap opera.

• It’d been a few years since I played The Sims, but this month another wave of quarantine boredom hit me (what else is new, right?) so I bought The Sims 4 and a few expansion packs/add-ons. Been enjoying building elaborate houses and watching virtual lives play out on my computer in this weird era when our own actual lives can’t play out as planned.

 

Products

• After dealing with recurrent neck pain for a few weeks that seemed to be the fault of my flat-ass old pillows, I decided to splurge on Wirecutter’s most highly-recommended pillow, the Nest Easy Breather. It was absurdly expensive for what it is, especially when you factor in the currency conversion and import duties, but I figure there are few things more worth spending money on than the object I lay my head on each night. Anyway, it’s blissfully comfortable, as you would expect. Maybe one day I’ll be able to afford a whole set…

• These black sequinned Ugg boots were on sale recently and I’ve wanted Uggs for years – my old winter boots are falling apart – so I bought a pair. Since it’s still summer I’ve just been wearing them around the house like slippers, but OMG, they are so cozy and comfy. I think me buying Uggs is a good sign re: divesting myself of toxic fashion-industry norms.

• Is it weird to put cornstarch on this list?! I recently learned that rolling around your (pressed, cubed) tofu in a blend of cornstarch and spices before pan-frying causes it to crisp up real good. I feel like a culinary genius whenever I cook it this way, even though it’s actually pretty easy.

• My partner gifted me their old Apple Watch a while ago when they got a newer one, and I’ve been enjoying using it primarily as a step tracker during the coronavirus debacle. When I’m not getting nearly enough exercise, and I know exercise is good for my mood and my chronic pain, it helps to have some kind of external motivation imposed on me to get my steps in, even if that’s just seeing my step tracker tick upwards on a watch screen.

 

Work & Appearances

• Bex and I celebrated reaching the 200th episode of the Dildorks by telling silly stories of our various sexual milestones! We also interviewed the delightful Aryn about sexual astrology, chatted with two whip-smart researchers about their new book on sex and social media, and discussed subspace and topspace.

• In my weekly newsletter, I wrote about having romantic/sexy dreams about people you know IRL, three kinky fantasies my partner asked me to expand upon, the room where me and Matt first kissed (and which we were definitely not supposed to kiss in), and our first financial domination scene, which involved luxe lingerie and a lot of negotiation.

• My brother is a fantastic guitar player, and we teamed up to cover the Hippo Campus song “Vines” when I visited my family recently. Always a pleasure playing music with Max!

• A lot of my work projects this month were things I’m not able to talk about in detail: another potential book project on the horizon, a game I might be developing for a publisher, and some ghostwriting for a pro domme client. Exciting stuff! I’ll tell you more when I can.

 

Good Causes

• The death of Chadwick Boseman from colon cancer this month was a shock to many. Donating to organizations that support Black people facing medical difficulties, like the Black Health Alliance or the Sisters Network, would be a lovely way to commemorate him and help other folks who are struggling like he was.

• J.K. Rowling is unfortunately still being a transphobic monster, so why not donate to an organization that supports trans people, such as the Black Trans Femmes in the Arts collective, the Trevor Project, or the Homeless Black Trans Women Fund?

• The Glad Day Lit Emergency Survival Fund is still raising cash to help support queer and trans artists impacted financially by COVID.

The Women I Like

Kate Sloan

Like most bisexuals (at least, most of the ones I have talked to), my attractions are not equally spread across all the genders I am attracted to. I’m also not always attracted to people of all genders in the same ways. There are differences – not hard-and-fast rules, necessarily, but trends – and for a long time, those differences made me secretly doubt my own bisexuality even as I was yelling on the internet about how all self-identified bisexuals are valid. It’s funny how the things you most believe to be true are often the things you have a hard time accepting are true about you.

Compared to my relatively frequent crushes on men and people whose presentation floats between androgyny and masculinity (insofar as gender presentation can be simplified that way, which ultimately it kinda can’t), my crushes on women and feminine people are rare. This hasn’t always been the case for me – I skewed much gayer in high school, an inexplicable swing of the pendulum toward a side that I’ll probably swing back toward one day – but it’s been this way for several years now. In some ways it’s a blessing: my infatuations with women are uncommon enough that when one does happen, I notice it – hard.

It’s fairly predictable, the way it happens, and the people it happens with. They tend to be brunettes, with bold personalities and excellent boundary-setting skills. They have smoky voices and great laughs. They have strong opinions about whiskey or gin. They’re comfier in leather boots than in luxe heels. Many of them are Jewish, like me – perhaps because I love a broad with a big, strong nose and a commanding demeanor. (#NotAllJews, for sure. But a good number of them!) They love rock music or experimental theatre or arthouse films. They overflow with passion and conviction.

There is something about a dark-haired woman in heavy eyeliner and a leather jacket that just… sends me. I struggle to piece together my sentences like a ruffled ceramicist holding out a broken vase in cupped hands: Is this what will make you like me? The women I like seem to transcend words like “feminine” and “masculine,” embodying one on some days and one on others, and sometimes both at once, side-stepping categorizations and mostly just not giving a fuck.

The women I like are braver than me, more decisive than me, and (crucially) more dominant than me. I’m a submissive through and through, and sometimes it feels so infused into my bones that it feels like it is my sexual orientation. Certainly, a partner’s dominant energy (or lack thereof) is typically more of a deciding factor in my attractions than their gender identity or presentation. The women I like almost always look like they would gladly beat me up if I asked, and would sweetly request bruise pictures the next day. They probably don’t know how to cook a pot roast or sew a button, but they do know their way around bondage cuffs and a heavy wooden paddle.

The women I like are usually well-spoken if you can discount all the curse words (and let’s not forget that creative and colorful swearing can be, itself, a type of well-spokenness). They speak before they think, which sometimes gets them into trouble, but they’re humble enough to apologize when they know they’ve fucked up. They get a little blushy and flustered when they have a crush, but not as much as I do – because I love a woman who can confidently push my buttons and let me feel like the smaller, gigglier, frailer one among us.

The women I like usually self-identify as gay, with that word specifically. There is something about it that piques my interest immediately when a woman uses it, maybe because the first person I ever dated (who then identified as a gender-weird girl and is now, last I checked, nonbinary) called themselves “extremely gay” the first time I ever saw them, and their surety in that sentiment made me feel extremely gay too. It’s a shame that so many gay women see bi women like me as automatic write-offs, but at the same time, I’m glad that the biphobes self-select themselves the hell out of my life.

The women I like have usually seriously questioned their gender identity at least once – and I’m focusing this post on women because many of them have chosen that label after a fair bit of self-reflection and consideration, which I respect very much. My crushes on nonbinary and genderqueer people are a different topic entirely and I don’t want this post to come across as though I’m lumping those folks together with women, because I’m not and I don’t. I do love the self-knowledge and boundless curiosity it takes to examine the gendered label society gave you, whether or not you eventually decide it fits, and many of the women I like have done exactly that.

The women I like will tell you to shut the fuck up if you say something transphobic or racist or ableist or biphobic. They will also not judge you if you call yourself a not-strictly-P.C. term (like “crazy” or “dyke” or “slut”) because they respect your right to self-identify as you wish and reclaim words that feel good.

The women I like tend to pride themselves on their sexual skills, whether that’s oral or fingerbanging or strap-on fucking or all of the above. They pack dildos in their handbags or slide lube packets into their jeans pockets for later use. They ask questions about my likes and dislikes and don’t assume that us having a gender label in common means we enjoy all the same things. They, in fact, relish the differences between us, those electric points of contrast that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

The women I like are chivalrous because they’ve chosen to be, not because society tells them they ought to be, the way it does with men who date women. They may get a bit flustered when they bring me flowers or open my car door for me, but it’s not because they feel silly doing those things – it’s because they like doing those things so much that it’s slightly embarrassing. I try to compliment them all the way through so they can step into their deliberate chivalry with backbone and verve.

The women I like make me wonder what they’re into in bed, in a way I never feel quite as intensely with men, even men I desperately want to fuck. The comparative lack of social and sexual scripts for queer relationships means that my queer infatuations are even more of a blank slate, even more of a choose-your-own-adventure erotica novel, and my lady-crush du jour could just as easily be into floggers or knives or vintage stockings – it’s a mystery I’m always excited to solve.

The women I like are few and far between. But when I meet one, I know it. I feel it in my heart and my stomach and my cunt. I feel it in the way I start sweating, giggling, and trying to seem impressive. I feel it in the way she shakes my hand, or bumps my shoulder with hers, or offers to buy me a drink. It’s a special kind of magic somehow made all the more special by its rarity. I wish, and wait, and wonder what her lipstick would look like intermingled with mine.